And So She Turned
by Telarana
Summary: A DG fic, post HBP. Ever wonder what would happen if Ginny turned to the dark side?
1. Entry 1

**Entry**** 1**

Ginny's foot slipped on a slippery stair, making her almost fall before she braced herself, pressing both of her hands on the walls on either side of her to stop her descent. The stairway that she was in was damp, dark and narrow, its walls so close together that they almost held the girl in a box. The steps beneath her were crooked and slanted at odd angles, and her balance even further being thrown off by the fact that it was almost pitch black.

Knockturn Alley didn't have any lights, whether magical or muggle-made, both a hazard and a benefit. The hazard being that practically anyone could be lurking around or that Ginny could slip and fall, like she almost had done earlier. But the benefit was greater than the danger. The dark provided Ginny the perfect camouflage, something that she really needed that night. If the people that she was searching for knew that she was looking for them, Ginny would have no chance; they would either disappear or come out and kill her before she could even blink an eye.

Ginny stepped out of the narrow staircase and steadied herself, glancing around once more in search of her prey. It was the fourth night in a row that Ginevra Molly Weasley had made her way down the long, twisted streets of Knockturn Alley. She had started sneaking out when she had become serious about her goal, tired of simply sitting at home having nothing but the thought stew in her mind all day, driving her crazy. So tonight, just like the past three nights, she had flooed her way into an abandoned store in Diagon Alley and crept down to Knockturn Alley, the only place she could think of where her quest might yield promising results.

Ginny rounded another corner and paused as she saw a glimpse of something move past the corner of her left eye. She spun around in the direction that she had seen it, but didn't bring out her wand. It would only cause her to look like a threat, something that she certainly didn't need. The young witch swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling parched and her heart starting to race beneath her shirt. She was both excited and frightened. Some part of her told her to go back—to return to the home that she had lived in for sixteen years now and to the warm people that she had called family for her entire life. She didn't need to do this; she would be perfectly fine, working in the Order and going about their business with pride.

But as soon as the thought of the Order popped into her mind, she knew she couldn't go back. It wasn't so much a result of Harry Potter dumping her because he wanted to protect her as a result of the knowledge that she'd been pinned in for too long. Held down under the presences of six older brothers, a ministry father, and now hidden in the shadows of Harry Potter and all of his deeds. No one could ever seem to acknowledge her, to realize that she was her own person, and was more than capable enough to make her own decisions and contribute to things as equally as anyone else.

That would all change now. The Death Eaters didn't care whether you were too young or not. Ever since Dumbledore had died, they had been making their presence felt. Just last week, they have braved out into a well lit and well populated street and massacred everyone on it, the deeds that Voldemort's followers used to do in his glory days. It was repulsive to her, but the power that they held was attractive, like a lure held to a fish as bait. The more of a taste she got of it, the more that she wanted it, and the more she realized she was never going to get it by staying in the shadows. It was time to make her own stand, even if she had to break the rules to do it.

Set determination now only on her face, Ginny took a step in the direction that she had seen the glimpse of movement—

And three black shadows suddenly surrounded her, hemming her in with more force than even the solidity of the cramped stairway she had come down earlier had done.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" hissed the hungry voice of a man to her rear right. Ginny didn't turn around to face him, keeping her attention on the two Death Eaters in front of her. Her hands had broken out in a cold sweat as soon as the trio had arrived, some trace of her fear appearing once again. She hurriedly wiped her wet hands on her jeans, clenching them together in fists afterwards so the three wouldn't notice.

"Arthur Weasley's youngest—his only daughter," came the oily reply of the Death Eater directly in front of her. With a start, Ginny realized that it was her former Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Snape. She couldn't see his face, but it didn't matter. She knew that his eyes were staring at her beneath the hood, narrowed at whatever thoughts he was thinking at the moment.

"And what are you doing here, pet?" sneered the harsh voice of the last of the three Death Eaters, this one to her left. Ginny looked away from Snape to stare at the woman in surprise. It was none other than Bellatrix Lestrange, a Death Eater that Ginny had met before, when she and some other Hogwarts students had invaded the Ministry of Magic in her fourth year. The woman's hood was down, allowing her features to show: dark skin, heavily lidded eyes, a strong jaw and a constantly frightening expression on her face.

Ginny licked her suddenly dry lips. "I want to become a Death Eater," she said hoarsely.

Bellatrix gave her a frightening grin and then she started to laugh at her. The laugh sounded maniacal. Ginny wondered if the woman was insane. Behind her, the man started to laugh as well.

"You want to become a Death Eater sweetheart? Do you even know what Death Eaters do?" Bellatrix sneered at her. "We kill things and torture people. We serve the Dark Lord to his fullest."

Ginny felt her face light up in anger. "I _know_ what you do. And I think I'd be a good asset to it. I'm not afraid to kill." To prove her point, her eyes roamed over the wall beside her. Spotting a spider, she took her wand out and pointed at it, forcefully saying a hex that she had made up recently, "Exgordia."

At her word, the spider burst, its guts splattering onto them all. Or maybe not them all, the girl realized, looking at the others. They had all conjured shields at the last minute, and they hadn't even known what the spell had done. Ginny cursed herself silently at her stupidity. She should have done that. Then she wouldn't look like such a novice right now.

Trying not to let her annoyance at herself show, she gave them a wide eyed grin, trying to match Bellatrix's in seeming insanity. "But I'm sure that we won't be killing spiders, right?"

A serious expression took over Bellatrix's face, and she narrowed her eyes at the girl, as if trying to figure out some trick. The man behind Ginny did the same thing, but without stopping his heavy breathing down Ginny's neck. Snape continued staring, as he had been doing all along, no hint of whatever he was thinking showing itself in his hood. After a long moment of silence, he gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. Immediately Ginny's wrists and bottom half of her legs were wrapped in tight ropes that had come out of nowhere. Her mouth was spelled shut, so that she couldn't talk anymore. The sixteen year old struggled, but to no avail; the ropes were magic and held firmly.

"Maybe we could hold her for ransom. If she's his only daughter she'll probably fetch a great sum of money," said the man behind her.

"Are you an idiot?" snapped Bellatrix, "Her parents don't have any money. The Ministry fools would probably try and capture us if we gave her back anyway. Besides, we could easily get money ourselves." The woman gestured around her and Ginny suddenly understood what they had been doing there. They were getting supplies for whatever activity they had planned next—or maybe just things for themselves, Ginny thought, noting a jar of jam sticking out of Bellatrix's deep pocket.

"I suggest we kill her," snarled Bellatrix, suddenly appearing in her face again. "Liquefy her bones and send the rest to her family and The Order, just to impress upon them how serious we are."

Ginny grew afraid. She realized that Bellatrix was telling the truth, and would have no problems in doing what she had offered at all. She suddenly wondered what she had gotten herself into. She should have went back when she had the chance. Then she'd be comfortable and safe in her own bed, not out here facing death at the hands of the servants of Lord Voldemort.

"No," said Snape quietly, speaking for the first time since had told them who she was earlier. "We'll take her to the Dark Lord and see what he wants to do with her. He might have a better use."

The other two Death Eaters were obviously displeased with this course of action, more willing to perform their own suggestions. However, neither of them said anything against it. Snape must have been the unofficial leader of the trio, or else Ginny suspected that none of the two would have listened to him without comment. Bellatrix and the other man made soft grunts of acceptance and the later grabbed Ginny's arm. All three disapparated from the spot, going back to wherever they had come from, and dragging Ginny along with them.


	2. Entry 2

**Entry ****2**

They apparated in front of a large, gloomy-looking house, sending murky shadows out from its frame to give them ample cover in case anyone happened to look, though at the moment there was no one around to do so. The Death Eater who had been clutching Ginny's arm so hard that he probably had bruised it, promptly picked the bound teenager up and threw her over his shoulder, her head buried in his stomach. The two adults in front of him had already started to make their way to the house, without a sparing glance behind them, and after shifting Ginny on his back to balance the weight load, the man followed closely after them.

Ginny didn't have an opportunity to observe her surroundings as she was carried into the house; her face was pressed into the man's musty black cloak and she was fighting just to take in a fresh breath of air. She felt the man begin to climb underneath her, his legs bringing themselves up dangerously close to her face, threatening to kick her in the head with every step. Finally, they reached the top of the creaking stairs and Ginny felt a whoosh of air pass her ears as a door opened in front of her.

She was dropped, tumbling over backwards as the man pushed her legs from off his back. The girl landed on a hard and lumpy surface, staring into the Death Eater's upside down face and watched as he pulled out a wand, her reflexes too slow to do anything more than just let her lie there. He pointed his wand as her and Ginny felt the magical ropes that had been binding her loosen. She struggled her way out of the ropes as the spell keeping her mouth shut was removed as well.

She turned around on what she had just discovered was a very hard and lumpy bed, and faced the man, now sitting upright. She met his eyes just in time to hear him warn her, "Don't even think about trying to escape. This place is filled with Death Eaters, your room is locked with enchantments, and even if you did somehow manage to get outside, we're twenty miles from the nearest place of residence—muggles mind you, so they wouldn't be much help in any case. And if you try anything funny," the man leaned closer, the same hungry expression showing in his eyes that was in his voice, "It'll be my pleasure to make you pay."

The man left his last sentence open, obviously trying to frighten her more by not telling her exactly what he was thinking of doing to her. However, his effect alone wasn't as frightening as his effect with the other Death Eaters. Besides, Ginny had to stand up for herself; if she let herself be pushed around now, there was no way that she could ever gain the power and recognition that she was looking for, that she would have when she became a Death Eater. If she became a Death Eater. It seemed highly improbable now that she had been captured by them, but Snape had said that he wanted to take her to Voldemort and see how he wanted to deal with her. If she could somehow convince the evil wizard, though she had no idea how, she might be able to succeed in still becoming a Death Eater. The alternative was probably to be killed, so she had nothing to lose, really.

Ginny crossed her arms. "Don't worry, I wasn't planning to escape. But normally when a person leaves a threat open like that, it's because they can't think of anything to do to the person that they're threatening," she informed him boldly.

"Oh I can think of plenty of things to do to you," he assured her, his upper lip curling up, baring his teeth in a malicious grin.

Ginny maintained her arrogant stance, despite the fact that fear was slowly creeping back into her. The man started laughing and backed up until he was outside the room, his hand on the door that he had carried her through.

"Sweet dreams," he grinned at her before turning around and halfway closing the door behind him. Then he paused and looked back at her, pulling something out of his pocket. "And we're keeping this, so don't even think of trying magic." In his hand he showed the witch her own wand. She gasped and automatically felt her pockets for a wand that she already knew wasn't there. She hadn't felt him take it from her. She didn't know how he could have done it while she was bound, and didn't think that he could have taken it from her earlier without her feeling it.

Rather than answer the question that was showing so blatantly on her face, the man turned around and this time closed the door behind him completely, leaving Ginny alone in total darkness.

x x x x x x x x

She woke up, not knowing how she had managed to fall asleep at all. Her mind had been plagued by fear and regret, consuming her thoughts completely. The fact that she was in a foreign room on a very uncomfortable bed, in pitch blackness, with a house possibly full of Death Eaters didn't help much either.

Ginny sat up, rubbing her cramped neck from sleeping in an awkward position and to her dismay, found that the last events hadn't been a nightmare at all. But in a way, she was glad that it hadn't been. Going downstairs to face her family's chatter and warm breakfast would have felt fake to her, especially after a dream where her darkest wish had almost come true.

Thinking of that, Ginny buried her head into her arms to think. Her darkest desire had almost been fulfilled, and if she pulled herself together it still would be. After all, maybe she could convince Voldemort to make her a Death Eater. She had no idea how to persuade him that she was meant to be one, but she figured that she would find out a way before the time came. She only need to stop thinking so much like the child of a family of muggle lovers and start modeling herself as someone worthy of joining Voldemort's army.

A sharp knock sounded, seeming to come from the locked door that led to her room. She took her head out of her arms and looked in front of her. Then she turned her head all around her, not being able to see a thing. The room was windowless, and thus there was still absolutely no light in it; it was as pitch black as when the man had left her in there earlier. As a result, Ginny didn't know what time it was. It may have only been a couple of hours since she had fallen asleep or a complete day. The darkness was also disorienting, causing her sense of direction to fail her, and she wasn't entirely sure of where the sound had originated from.

Before she could estimate exactly where she was in relation to the door, she heard a creak, and the room flooded with bright light as the door opened. The sudden appearance of brightness burned Ginny's retinas like fire, and she shut her eyes, the pain still not receding despite this action. Underneath her eyelids, she could still see orange, and then the color turned to bright red as more light filled the room.

"Cut out the bloody lights!" she yelled at the person causing her current blindness.

"Oh shut up, Weaslette," came the belligerent reply. "You might be able to see in complete darkness but I certainly can't."

The Death Eater closed the door behind him and Ginny involuntarily gasped, somehow managing to control the groan that was urging to come out of her as well. She opened her eyes, blinking in the new array of lights that had sprung up. Her eyes landed on the culprit, who was of course, none other than Draco Malfoy. A son from a long line of purebloods well known to have turned into dark wizards, and a tormentor of her family for years. He had transfigured a string of lights around the room, that were floating on thin air, and were the source of the sudden light that had illuminated the room.

The two glared at each other for a minute before Malfoy shoved a tray of food in her face. "Here's your food," he said bluntly. He pushed the food tray on the bed and turned to make his way out.

Ignoring the food in front of her, Ginny blurted out, "What are you doing here?"

The boy turned halfway around and stared at her, raising an eyebrow. "It should be obvious."

She glared at him. The other adults might think that they were better than her, but she wouldn't allow this twerp to think so as well. She told herself to calm down. It would do no good to attack Malfoy, especially since she was currently lacking a wand, and as he was now a Death Eater, attacking him around other Death Eaters might seem hostile towards them. It would significantly lower her chances of becoming one of them to null.

"I meant, why did they send _you_ up here?" she explained herself, keeping a lid on her anger.

Once again, he gave her a look that said that the answer was obvious. But instead of saying that, he answered, "I have the least seniority."

Ginny frowned in confusion. "There are plenty of new Death Eaters. Surely they have less seniority than you—"she stopped as a flash of realization came to her.

"It's because you couldn't kill Dumbledore, isn't it?" She laughed at him. The fact that he had failed at something so badly that it put him on iffy terms with Lord Voldemort was amusing to her, especially since he always seemed to exude the belief that he was better than everyone else. She ignored the fact that it was because a good person had died that this had happened, and turned her heart cold to the hard fact of his death.

"The oh-so-great Draco Malfoy couldn't even kill a little old man," she taunted, well aware that Dumbledore certainly hadn't been a "little old man" but figuring that it would only make Draco's pride hurt worse.

"It's not as easy to kill someone as you may think," he replied to her icily. "And exactly why are you here, Weasel?"

Ginny ignored the slight on her name and told him proudly, "I want to become a Death Eater."

The smirk that had been creeping up his face stopped and retreated back down. Then the boy started to laugh. "That's hilarious. Truly, why are you here?"

Unbeknownst to her, the former Gyffindor's eyes turned hard, and she replied coolly, "I'm serious."

Malfoy's new smirk dropped, just like his former one had, and he stared at her contemplatively. It reminded Ginny of the way that the reaction that the older Death Eaters had the night before, when she had told them the same thing. After staring at her a few moments, he said seriously this time, "And why would you want to become a Death Eater?"

Before either of them could say another word, the door to the room opened again, but this time the girl's eyes had adjusted enough so that the new light wasn't blinding. Both of the teens looked at the new arrival, who sneered at Malfoy, ignoring Ginny completely. "I sent you up here to feed her, not to flirt with her. Get downstairs. You have other work to do."

Malfoy glared at the brown haired man contemptuously, and then turned on his heel and walked out of Ginny's cell, without sparing any look backwards. The new Death Eater glanced at Ginny, and then walked out himself, closing and locking the door behind him. It was an attribute to how much things had changed that someone was actually ordering Malfoy around, and that he felt obliged to follow them, and even do work. He was no longer a big shot anymore; he was an underdog, even among those who should seem to respect him as a more experienced Death Eater. Ginny promised herself that if she joined them, she would never let that happen to her. She would do whatever it took to succeed.

Luckily, the lights had been kept on this time as the Death Eaters had walked out of the room, so Ginny didn't have to sit in a pitch black room by herself again. It also allowed her to actually see her surroundings, and she glanced around the room as she ate, distracting herself from the unknowns that her food tray contained—a very undercooked sausage, cold toast with something that she hoped was jam on it, and a gray substance, which partially resembled grits but smelled more like rotten cabbage.

Her room consisted of a bed in the middle of it, that she was sitting on right now, and it actually took up most of the space within the room. The rest of the room was sparsely furnished with a large chest to her right, with broken handles and shelves in it, and a tiny dresser to her left, dusty and covered with spiderwebs. If she were afraid of spiders like her brother was, she might have been a little intimidated by that fact, and the fact that at any time someone could come up here and cut out the lights, putting her back in darkness and allowing whatever to crawl on her at will. But she wasn't, so she ignored it, storing it in the back of her mind.

On the walls, there were crooked portraits hanging from nails in the wall, some looking like they would completely fall off for lack of support in the wall that they were held on. The walls were made of rotted wood, boards missing and black spaces visible from where Ginny sat. She frowned, thinking that they put her in an unused and unrepaired room on purpose, almost as if they didn't truly care about what happened to her or not. It wasn't a very comfortable thought. But if they were unconcerned about her, it also didn't seem like they would try and torture her for information on the Order or the Ministry any time soon. She didn't have any to give them, which would have only made it more painful if they had decided that she was no longer needed.

Ginny shook her head. They said that they would talk her to Voldemort, so they wouldn't kill her anytime soon. She would just have to wait patiently until then, biding her time in the pitiful room, and hoping that she didn't go crazy from boredom before that time came.


	3. Entry 3

**Entry 3**

After an estimated four days—eight meals, twice a day—marked by sleeping, singing to herself, daydreaming, thinking about the future, and basically every other way she could think of to occupy herself in a room that was constant darkness punctuated by periods of brief magical light, the routine came to an end.

When a creaking sound came from somewhere near her head that morning, followed by invasive light, Ginny kept her eyes shut and remained laying on the bed, expecting Malfoy to come in, drop her breakfast somewhere in her vicinity, and then step out again. Since the shock of seeing him the first time, they hadn't said a word to each other, until the boredom and loneliness of being stuck in a solitary room had finally overcome her and she had asked him when she was going to see Voldemort. His response was a flinch at the name and then a harsh comment on her gall for saying the Dark Lord's name out of her filthy mudblood loving lips. Of course there had been some insults exchanged, and she had almost punched him before she realized her perilous position as a captive of the Death Eaters, but finally he told her in a very cold and rude manner that he had no clue when she would meet him. And in the end, Ginny had somehow wound up telling him that she was sick of the room and he had—to her surprise—agreed to get her out of it.

Though she didn't hold much faith in the word of a Malfoy at all, even just the slightest glimmer of hope was enough to keep her content until she met with Voldemort. She allowed herself no more than a glimmer; hope followed by disappointment and despair would do her no good in her current situation. Thus, when Malfoy entered the room, Ginny laid on the bed silent and unmoving, refusing to open her eyes and acknowledge his presence at all. She feared that seeing his face or meeting his knowing smirk would dash her small glimmer of hope permanently.

"Get up girl," said a raspy voice, grating her ears like sandpaper on skin.

Ginny's eyes snapped open and she rolled onto her stomach, pushing herself up on her elbows to stare the new arrival in the eye.

"Stop looking at me like a newborn lamb," the woman snapped, implying that looking like a newborn lamb was in some way disgusting and entirely undesirable. "Now get up. You're gonna work."

It took a few more seconds for the woman's words to fully register in Ginny's mind. _Work?_ Did the woman mean as a Death Eater? So she was approved even without Voldemort deciding what to do with her? Completely puzzled and surprised, her small speck of hope broadening against her better judgment, Ginny pushed herself off of the bed and stood up, feeling cramps already forming in her legs from lying on a bed motionless for the many hours that she had.

At the sight of the expression on the woman's face, she didn't dare try and stretch to relieve her aches. Instead, she followed closely behind the woman, tailing her steps eagerly to the point of almost stepping on her heels. As the two went down the stairs, she fell back in her pace and took the opportunity to observe the house as it unfolded before her. She hadn't gotten much of a chance before, seeing as her face had been pressed into someone's bulging stomach, but now she realized that the house was much larger than it had appeared outside the night that she had been brought there. It wasn't surprising, seeing as many wizards compressed the appearances of their houses, cars and such to make it seem far less roomy than it actually was. Or rather they did the opposite, and expanded the inside of their belongings to make it far roomier than it should have been. She assumed that it was a benefit since the man had implied that they were living in an area filled with muggles.

The stairs let out to a large entrance hall to the house, filled with bright and warm lights from the chandeliers on the broad ceiling high above the hall. However, the entrance hall was about the only bright and cheery place in the entire house. Everywhere else—the stairs directly opposite to the ones that she was climbing down, the long dark hallways of rooms that the staircase led to, and another part of the house that the entrance hall led to, a long and gloomy looking hallway, filled with numerous closed doors and hidden secrets behind each. She wondered if any Death Eaters were behind those doors, hidden in the murky shadows of the rooms, plotting their next move.

Excluding the false comfort of the entrance hall, the house reminded Ginny of the chilling sensation that she had first had upon walking into the Phoenix headquarters the first time. Admittedly, it was rather empty of the normal decorations and items that most houses of Dark Wizards held, and that Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had first held. The teen wondered if it was because all of the really bone-chilling items were hidden in the rooms in the hallway before her, or somewhere in the Death Eaters' rooms above her head. Or was there no dark décor because the house wasn't originally a Dark Wizard's house at all? It had obviously been originally a muggle residence, adapted to fit the Death Eaters' needs, and they hadn't completely finished with the remodeling either, she guessed. A reason why the main entrance was still bright and cheerful.

To her luck and slight disappointment at not satisfying her morbid curiosity, the woman didn't lead her to any of the shadow filled areas in the house. Instead, Ginny followed her into a room almost underneath the stairs that she had just come down. It wasn't dark and terrifying; it was a kitchen. But it was a far cry away from the warmth and security of her mother's kitchen or even the kitchens at Hogwarts. It was small and dingy looking, with rust strains over the countertop, peeling paint on the walls, and a fresh spiderweb in the corner of the room. The cabinets were faded and the knobs on them looked worn; one cabinet slightly ajar to reveal a meager selection of jam, canned food, and malicious looking potions ingredients that Ginny was sure she had never used in class. She wondered if some of the ingredients had come from Knockturn Alley on the night that she had been captured.

Besides the stove, the refrigerator, the countertop, and the cabinets, the room only contained one other piece of furniture, a small table with crooked chairs. It was on one of these chairs that her companion sat and looked at her pointedly, the woman's prematurely graying hair giving her an undeserved appearance of old wisdom as she told Ginny what to do.

"Look in that sink," the Death Eater instructed her, waiting until she had complied to continue. "You're gonna wash those dishes."

Ginny paused, looking at the dirty dishes in the sink and waiting for more instructions. Hearing nothing further, she turned around and glared at the woman who was now reclining back in her chair, her legs on the table in front of her. Somewhere, she had gotten a book and was currently reading it with a sour look on her face.

"How am I supposed to clean the dishes without a wand?" the girl finally asked, irritated and tired of waiting for her overseer to glance up.

The older woman snorted derisively but didn't look up as she replied to her. "I'm not giving you a wand. Do it by hand, like muggles do."

Ginny looked back at the dirty dishes, piled high in the sink and caked to the brim with food. Didn't the dark wizards _ever_ finish everything on their plates? She stared at the dishes further, thinking of how to wash them with no magic. It required a rag—something that she spotted out of the corner of her eye—soap—another thing that was on the side of the mountain of dishes—and water. She frowned. There was no water present, and without a wand, she wasn't exactly sure how to make water suddenly appear.

She turned around again and crossed her arms in annoyance, staring at the woman, who was now tapping her fingers on the table absentmindedly as she glared at her book.

"There's no water," she informed her. Her companion continued tapping her fingers and frowning at the book, ignoring Ginny entirely as if to say, "Not my problem."

Ginny glared at her, taking advantage of the fact that the woman wasn't looking, and turned around again, determined to find a way to wash the dishes herself without relying on the woman's non-existent help. First there was the matter of water. She looked around her, knowing that muggles had some way of getting water without a wand. Unfortunately, she wasn't as familiar with muggle contraptions or their ways of coping with magic as her father was, and had only seen her mother clean dishes with magic.

She glanced at the sink that the dishes were contained in and saw nothing. Peering carefully behind the stack of dishes, while trying to avoid them toppling over, she finally spotted a faucet. _Of course_, she thought, privately chiding herself on once again not realizing something before. And in the presence of another Death Eater as well. She hoped that she wouldn't constantly continue in this pattern. It would put her odds of becoming one of them very low, if she couldn't even prove that she was intelligent enough to be one.

The witch flicked on the faucet and watched the water come out, shooting from the head of the faucet into the drain below. Now how to keep it entirely in the sink? She looked around again and saw something to her left that might work. It was large enough to cover the drain and looked like it would fit snugly enough to avoid being pushed upwards and wind up floating on top of the water. She placed it over the drain and ran the water again—it worked.

After a long and tedious washing of the dirty dishes by hand, her arms soaked to her elbow and her nose covered with soap suds from a palm went astray, Ginny dried the last plate with a towel and set it with the others in an orderly pile arranged by item. Then she emptied the sink of its water, letting it slowly spiral down the drain as she removed the block that she had placed there.

"I'm done," she called over her shoulder. When she turned around, her eyes met a basket full of laundry that was level with her head. The basket was lowered, allowing her to see the Death Eater's face above it.

"Good," the woman told her. "Now go hang these up to dry."

The overseer shoved the basket in her still-damp arms and told her to go out the front door and walk around to the back of the house, where she would see a clothesline. She also informed her that there were clothespins under the top shirt that she could use to hang them up. Then she pushed Ginny out of the kitchen, turning around and disappearing into the black hallway behind the girl.

Before anyone could spot her and tell her to do something that didn't involve going outside, Ginny sped out the front double doors.

Light met her eyes, natural this time instead of the magical and artificial light that she had been exposed to thus far. And suddenly, all of her senses were assaulted at once. The smell of fresh air and the hint of moisture that always came after a recent rainshower, the feel of the breeze and the heat from the sun on her bare skin, the sound of birds' chirps and bees' hums ringing through her ears as they went about their daily work, and the visual stimuli that met her eyes—green grass, tall trees, the blue sky—far different from the ancient wooden boards that she saw whenever her room happened to be lit. To a person that had been contained in a small prison for days, it was like paradise. She wanted to jump up and down, running and skipping, as happy as one might be if a long-lost friend had finally returned from a long trip away from home.

However, Ginny did none of this. On the contrary, she quickly calmed herself and tried to get her thoughts back in order, bringing her to a more rational state. She was outside, which meant that she could run away and try to escape. The man's words came back to her, the warning that he had given her on the day that she had been brought there. He could have been bluffing, she reckoned, but then the words that she had said to him came back as well.

_Don't worry. I wasn't planning to escape._

When she had said them, she had really meant them, and she suddenly realized that she still meant them. Though running away might be the most satisfying option, even if she somehow managed to avoid being captured by the Death Eaters and made it back to her family, she knew that she would forever regret not going through with her plan and seeing if she could ever really become a successful and powerful Death Eater. Going back to comments about how she was too young to do something, or conversations about the wonderful deeds that everyone around her had done, and of course, the all-encompassing accomplishments of her ex-boyfriend, Harry Potter. The involuntary thoughts were as strangling as the reality had been back in the Burrow and Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Though the Death Eaters were evil, within them she could carve her own place, without expectations or overshadowment, and where she could prove herself as successful a witch as Harry Potter was a wizard, if she so chose.

Convinced again that it was the right choice to stay there and shoving the painful thoughts of her break up with Harry—was it because he thought her unable to take care of herself?—out of her mind, Ginny readjusted the clothes basket in her arms and stalked off to the back of the house to hang the laundry up on the line to dry. Interestingly, once she got there she found that there were all types of things in the basket. Shirts and pants similar to the ones that muggles wore to work, jeans, t-shirts, the all black formidable looking Death Eater robes, a pair of mismatched striped socks, an odd looking fisherman's hat, a damp teddy bear—she wasn't sure what to do with that one, so it went on the grass beside her as she worked—and even a hideous looking fur coat, probably ruined from washing it the wrong way. She was hanging up a large and heavy bed sheet when a familiar and most un-welcome voice met her ears.

"You're in my way."

The girl put the last clothespin on the sheet and spun around, her hands on her hips in a very Mrs. Weasley-ish appearance.

"I _happen_ to be hanging laundry to dry," she informed Malfoy bitterly.

"Yes, but you're doing it wrong," he pointed out coldly. "There are too many spaces in between the clothes. Where am I supposed to put mine?" A basket similar to the one that was at her feet was in his hands.

She turned around, putting her back to him. "You have magic. Make the line longer."

"No," he blatantly refused. "And this is a muggle area. We can't just go around doing magic in the middle of the day."

Ginny opened her mouth, wanting to point out that the adults did magic all the time, daylight or not, but instead she told him, "I'm already three-quarters finished."

"So?" came the response from behind her.

"_So?_" She spun around again. "It would take me _forever_ to reorganize the clothes. Especially just for _your_ benefit!"

"True." His eyes narrowed and his wand raised, and then she heard a sharp noise behind her. Ginny spun around again, to find that he had smashed all of her laundry together at the left corner of the clothesline. The wet bedspread that she had been putting up earlier came free of its pins to cover her head, and a quick laugh from somewhere behind her let her know that Malfoy was the cause.

Ginny untangled herself from the bedsheet and tore it off of her face. She spotted Malfoy at the right side of the clothing line, hanging up his own batch of clothes to dry. Instead of wasting time to glare at him, she growled. That was it; she was sick and tired of him. In a quick flash of motion, the only girl in a family of six brothers tackled the blonde-haired mass of arrogance to the ground. Then she raised her fist to punch him.

"Doyoureallywanttodothat?" he said quickly and rushed, half a smirk still on his face.

She glanced at her raised fist and then she slowly lowered it, wishing that she could choke him at that very moment. But she didn't, furious that attacking a git like him would put her in a precarious situation with the other Death Eaters. She got off the boy and stood up, still glaring angry daggers at the cause of her current frustration.

"Mark my words, Draco Malfoy," she threatened, pointed at him as he stood up and brushed himself off, taking care to fix his hair. "Once I'm a Death Eater, you will pay."

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her, still straightening his robes. "All this over a little charm on the laundry?" He smirked. "So I guess that the entire Weasley tribe is all temper and no brains, not just your brother huh?"

Her hands clenched together again, but she didn't reply to his insult on her family like she knew that he wanted her to. Instead she said, "You've been a pain ever since I first came to Hogwarts, Malfoy. No, in fact even before that," she corrected herself. "In that bookstore right before my first year, when your father so _generously_ gave me Riddle's book and caused me to have my worst year at Hogwarts ever."

Malfoy smirked in amusement and remembrance. "I had forgotten about that. You were killing chickens right?" He laughed, as it the reopening of the Chamber of Secrets in her first year had actually been a humorous event.

She growled at him again, her anger building even more. "Get away from me," the girl ordered quietly, but with a dangerous cadence to her voice.

Her companion stepped away from her, smirking at the fact that he had been able to make her angry, and obviously feeling safe that she couldn't act on it. She watched him flick his wand almost absent-mindedly over his shoulder, and the rest of the clothes that were left in his basket hung themselves on the line, clothespins and all. Then he turned on his heel, strolling back to the house and stowing his wand in his pocket as he went.

Ginny turned away from him and stomped to the corner of the clothesline, glaring at the crunched up clothes fiercely with misplaced anger. She let out an angry yell and punched the nearest item hanging on the line, a still very wet shirt. She tried to calm herself down, telling herself that Malfoy wasn't worth ruining her day over, even if he was an infuriating prat.

"Jerk," she muttered to herself and placed her hands on her laundry, preparing to straighten out the clothes and arrange them properly on the line. Then a thought struck her.

The witch whirled around to find Malfoy about to enter the house through its back door. "Malfoy!" she called sharply.

Her quarry paused and turned around to face her. "More threats?" he asked in a bored drawl.

"Why did you do it?"

He blinked in confusion. "Because it was fun?"

Ginny frowned. His answer made no sense. Then she realized that he thought that she was referring to the sheet thrown over her head earlier. She shook her head at him. "No, I meant, why did you help me? You're the reason why I'm out of that room, right?"

The smug look that came over his face at her last question made her almost want to take it back. Or send a very heavy bat bogey hex at him. Whichever opportunity came first.

"I thought that you were lying when you agreed to help me yesterday," she added in slight puzzlement.

His eyes narrowed. "Malfoy's do have a code of honour, Weasley. We don't lie about trivial things."

Ginny crossed her arms and stared at him. "That doesn't answer my question."

He smirked. "Simple. You needed out of that room and I didn't want to do all of this rubbish by myself."

She frowned, slightly disappointed by his answer. She had been expecting a more…chivalrous one, maybe something to uncover some secret soft side of him that she hadn't believed existed before. Now she knew for sure that it didn't exist. Malfoy was a being that only did things for his personal benefit, just like all Malfoys. A selfish jerk; probably the main reason why he was in Slytherin. That and his meanness.

The older boy suddenly smirked at her again and made an upward motion with his head, urging her to look at something behind her. Ginny glanced over her shoulder—and the same bedspread from earlier fell upon her head again, encasing her in a mound of whiteness.

-----------------

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad that you like it. This chapter is the longest so far. Unfortunately, the next chapter will probably be the shortest, so beware.

--Paze


	4. Entry 4

**Entry 4**

The waiting was endless. Endless minutes melted into endless hours, and then days, which in turn crept into weeks. Yet still, there had been no talk of taking her to Voldemort. After a while, Ginny had given up on inquiring as to when she would meet with him. The answers were always the same. Either an irritated glare, a comment on how the person couldn't care less, or some remark about whenever the Dark Lord was ready.

Instead of dwelling on the fruitlessness of her situation, Ginny poured herself into her routine. Ever since Malfoy had gotten her out of the room, she was subjected to doing chores—the same chores that he was doing, she had found out. But sometimes it seemed like less work and sometimes more. She had also learned that Malfoy did duties as a Death Eater. However, since he had failed so miserably at the huge job that he had been given the year before, the jobs that he was assigned were even less than the ones new Death Eaters did; they were the dirt that was left behind.

She herself had been given more and more chores, to the point that she was now only contained in her prison during the night, when she slept and when most of the adults worked. The rest of the day was spent with meaningless chores that had to be performed only by hand. She sometimes thought that the wizards only gave them to her because they were far too lazy to do it themselves, though they were more than capable of doing so. There was a benefit to her routine though. Ginny got a chance to stretch her legs, go outside and enjoy the weather and best of all, to shower. The first time that she had been allowed to get all of the grit and sweat off of her body from being cooped up in the room all day, had been like paradise. She'd never wanted to come out of the steaming water.

"Weaslette!"

The voice punctuated one of her newest chores—mopping the floor—and Ginny groaned. Malfoy was really the only person who talked to her—if one called what conversations they had talking—the other adults being far too busy or thinking that they were far too old and important to want anything to do with her. A sudden image came up in Ginny's head of taking her mop and smacking Malfoy right across the face with it. It was satisfying and caused her to snicker as he drew closer to her.

"Thought you might be interested in this," he continued, smirking and holding something out in front of him for her to take.

Once she had grabbed it, he strode away from her, going about whatever business he had been doing before he had approached. Curious as to what she might be curious about, Ginny unfolded the rolled paper with interest. She found that it was copy of today's _Daily Prophet_, and on the front cover was a small story with a heading that read, "No Sign of Young Witch as of Yet." There were two haggard looking people on the front, her parents. Her mother was crying fiercely into her father's shoulder, the latter or who was looking very composed and collected. Nonetheless, his eyes were full of worry and concern. The two didn't look up and see her, but viewing their racked postures made Ginny want to comfort and assuage their fears, even if merely in a photograph.

"After 18 days of searching, there has still been no sign of Ginny Weasley, the child of Ministry official, Arthur Weasley. The sixteen year old vanished after sneaking out of her parents' house late that night. In the morning, her parents found that she had gone, and a short time afterwards she was presumed missing, possibly captured of killed by You-Know-Who.

Her mother, Molly Weasley, gave this statement, "She's always been the best behaved of all of our children, never causing trouble. I have no idea what came over her. Maybe she had been put under the Imperius Curse." The woman then collapsed in a state of tears, unable to say more.

Her father had this to add, "If anyone has taken my daughter, be warned that I will hunt you down and make you wish that you had never even heard of the Weasleys. And if You-Know-Who is behind this, your time will come to an end very soon."

Interestingly, Ginny would have been attending Hogwarts, the place where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named´s followers were last spotted, this fall, starting her sixth year there. As she is the daughter of a ministry official as well as the former sweetheart of Harry Potter, she is a prime target for kidnap or murder by the darkest wizard of all time. Harry Potter was unavailable for comment at this time, but I can imagine that this would only spur the Boy-Who-Lived on further in his quest against the You-Know-Who.

If anyone has any information on the current whereabouts of Ginny Weasley of what might have happened to her, please contact the Ministry of Magic at—"

Ginny put the paper down. The first thought in her mind wasn't how long she had been gone, or how correct the journalist was in saying that she was in danger of being captured by Voldemort—while still unknowing that she had strayed into his pawns' midst intentionally. It wasn't on how much information the newspaper was giving out in case she hadn't been captured, making it easier to hold her for ransom or do some other malicious thing to her if she did in fact get kidnapped, because of her ties to influential wizards. Instead, the first thing that popped into her mind was her family.

Ginny thought about her six brothers, mother, father, and her many friends and associates, who were probably all sick with concern for her. The image of her mother's crying form and her father's flashed in her eyes again, as clear as if she were still holding the article to her face. A strong tug of homesickness came over her, laced with feelings of guilt and regret. What was she doing here? She wanted to run back into the warm house of her parents, retreating behind the safety of their walls in peace. There were second doubts in her mind, fueled on by the fact that sitting and waiting for something to happen, being trapped in a small and boring room, and being forced to do endless chores for Death Eaters wasn't a very exciting prospect at all.

Ginny caught herself before her min wandered too far away from reality, dwelling on comforting thoughts from the past. Why was she here? To prove herself and make a name for herself as a successful witch. She suddenly realized that she would never be able to do that if she kept going back to thoughts of her family or her friends or how life in the past was compared to her life now. After all, if one kept dwelling on what was left behind, then one could never move forward. And Ginny desperately needed to move forward to succeed in this new future.

She finished mopping the floor of the entrance hall and then walked around the house, venturing into the areas that she was allowed—the kitchen, the entrance hall where she had previously been, the stairs, and the long corridor of rooms that le to the suits of the Death Eaters who stayed there. However, it wasn't until she reached the last place—the only room that she was allowed to go in down the gloomy and depressing hallway where the adults held their business at, the dining room—that she found what she was looking for.

The former Hogwarts student was sitting at the long, empty table, drinking something from a cup in his hands. He looked up as she strode in and placed the _Daily Prophet_ in front of him, smoothing its crumpled form out so that he could make out what it was.

"Though I'm sure that it wasn't what you were intending, this article actually helped fortify my resolve to stay here and become a Death Eater," she informed her companion bluntly and proudly. "So thank you, Draco."

Ginny thought that she saw a slight wince at her familiar use of his name and a smile played out on her lips, glad to make him feel any sort of discomfort. The boy showed no other signs of emotion, maintaining the same unfeeling mask that he always wore. However, it strangely wasn't accompanied by an air of superiority or by the curl of a lip, warning that a harsh comment was going to come her way soon. Instead, it was joined by only narrowed eyes and a thoughtful expression.

"Why do you want to become a Death Eater?" the grey eyed teen questioned her, his words coming out hard and serious. "You don't support the Dark Lord. You don't believe in what he has to offer. You're loyal to the Ministry and come from a family of blood traitors. You even dated Potter. What are you doing here?"

His eyes bore into her as his words got colder and quieter, hitting her with a chill that she had never experienced from him before. "This isn't the place for little girls who want a break from their good two shoes life. Go back home."

Ginny parted her lips in anger to respond to him, but was interrupted when he quickly stood up out of his chair, the close proximity of his presence pinning her to the table. For once, Ginny noticed how much taller he was than her, as his looming figure created a formidable intimidation on her part. She surreptitiously grabbed an empty candlestick on the table behind her, prepared should she have to fight back if he tried anything.

He lowered his head to look her in the eye and she narrowed her eyes back at him, her heart racing and her breath coming in smaller and faster portions. "If you thought that being a Death Eater is easy, you were wrong." The dangerous lit that had been in his voice before was gone, replaced by only a soft tone. However, Ginny didn't let down her guard, as he was still too close for comfort. The older boy paused for a split second and then added, almost mockingly, _"Ginny."_

Finally he walked past her, his shoulder colliding with hers in a hard brush as he swept out of the room.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The bed was as hard and lumpy as ever, but Ginny didn't care about its uncomfortableness as she threw herself onto it, face forward and legs and arms spread-eagled. Though she was exhausted from a day of working, she let her mind drift onto the earlier conversation with Malfoy, not that there was much of one, as always.

If she hadn't sensed that he was completely serious, she would have written off the encounter as stemming from jealously, or as an underestimate of her abilities. But now she wondered what could be so bad about becoming a Death Eater, besides the fact that one would have to serve Lord Voldemort. Did he hate the job because he had failed at his mission and had been demoted to the same status as a house-elf? Or was it because of some other reason?

Murdering Dumbledore. She wondered if she could have done it herself. She had always assumed that she would if she had been ordered to, but that was theoretical of course. Now she faced the reality of the situation. While she hadn't been as close to him as some students were, it seemed that he and her family were always interacting with one another. He was a good wizard and she had loved him, just as most of the wizarding world had. What would she have done if she were in Malfoy's situation, his father in Azkaban, threatened with murder, unless he killed a weak old man, one of the greatest wizards of his time? Could she have done it? Or would she have stood there like him, hesitating to the point of doing nothing at all?

Ginny shook the thoughts from her head. She would never kill someone, Death Eater or not, ordered by Voldemort or not. She would make sure that she was never ordered to kill anyone, though she wasn't entirely sure how. She closed her eyes, preparing to cuddle onto the bed, wrapping its sheets over her head in exhausted relief to be done with the day, when the door burst open behind her.

"Why aren't you getting ready?" a woman's voice exclaimed behind her.

Fighting the very strong urge to submit to sleep and ignore the person entirely, the girl slowly rolled over to stare at the woman.

"Getting ready for what?"

"To meet the Dark Lord of course!"

Ginny blinked. "The Dark Lord?" Her mind was slow to grasp on the concept, but once the words punctuated her tiredness, she bolted straight up. "I'm finally meeting him?"

"Yes. And we can't have you looking like that. Now why aren't you dressed?"

Ginny looked down at herself and then up once more. "I am dressed."

The woman shook her head. It was becoming clear that she wasn't a Death Eater herself. Her robes were a dark forest green, her hair in flared ebony spirals and her entire appearance manicured to the point of perfection. Besides, Ginny was sure that a Death Eater would have jerked her unceremoniously out of bed and dragged her to the meeting place, not stopped and have a strange conversation about how she wasn't suited to see the Voldemort yet.

As if to further confirm her suspicions, the woman looked at something that she was carrying over her shoulder and let out a brief chuckle at herself.

"Well of course, your clothes are right here."

She dumped a fine dress robe on the bed. It was black, the same shade as the robes that the Death Eaters normally wore. However, unlike their dull robes, this one sparkled magnificently and was lined with a bright red border on the edges. The collar was popped up and cut into a v-shape, somehow managing to be masculine and feminine at the same time. Very stylish indeed.

The woman picked up the robe and held it out in front of her. "They said that you were about this size." She motioned for Ginny to stand up and she complied, wondering who were the "they" that would fit her with something like this, and even take mention of her size. The dress was held up to her. "It looks like it'll fit. Now put it on. I have to do your hair and makeup as well."

All modesty aside now that she had been presented with new clothes, the young witch threw off the pair of clothes that she had been wearing for weeks now and slid on the dress robes, enjoying the feel of soft material against her skin.

At the flick of a wand, a stool and a desk appeared in front of her, complete with a mirror. The image that met her eyes was a drawn, haggard, and drab looking thing, certainly no one who deserved to be wearing robe of this nature. She was pushed onto the stool, makeup cases and hair products popping up on the desk. Her hair was fussed with: pulled straight, pushed into a mass atop her head, pushed down to hang—the woman experimented with different styles to fit the occasion, dropping them and moving on to the next before they were even completed.

Next came the makeup. But it wasn't as bad as Ginny might have imagined. The woman didn't put a hideous amount of eyeshadow, mascara and who know what else to accent the "big brown eyes" that she had complimented her on. Her cheeks weren't flushed with color to rid them of their current pallor and her lips weren't covered in bright shades that were entirely wrong for her skin color to make them appear fuller and more "luscious", no matter how beautiful the shades looked in the case. Actually, she appeared rather normal.

In the end, her hair had been straightened and shined, hanging smartly around her shoulders with slight curls on the end. Her face was covered in flesh based tones, giving her a natural look, but covering up the signs of fatigue. And of course, there were the gorgeous dress robes. If it had been a fairytale, she would either have to assume that she had a fairy godmother or a secret hidden royal identity, or that she was being offered up as a sacrifice—perhaps even doomed to be roasted and eaten afterward. Ginny shivered at her mirrored reflection. Though none of the situations seemed likely, she desperately hoped that she weren't in fact about to walk into a room with the darkest wizard of all time, only to be murdered. Or worse, tortured until she became insane.

She hoped not.

_xxxxxxxxxxxx_

**_Authors Note_**:

In case you haven't noticed, this is a sort of filler chapter. Thus, I didn't concentrate as much on some of the personalities (like her parents, Draco, etc.). So sorry about any OoCness, but I really wasn't paying attention to that when I was writing the first half (the filler part). (I know that that's no excuse. I myself hate when I have to read OoCness in a story. :/) And I obviously included another scene in there that was unprecipitated, which was why the fourth chapter is far longer than I thought it would be.

Thanks for reading and commenting!

--Pazé


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